Falling for the Governess: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Abby Ayles

  A half-hour later, Isabella had told her friend and Lady Gilcrest the whole situation. She started with the necklace in her hem, all the way through retelling all that Lady Cunningham had written to the duchess.

  “It is not very different than the telling of the matter that I have also heard,” Lady Gilcrest said smoothly. She was older in age but had the grace and agility of someone much younger in years.

  Both Gilcrest ladies were identical to the other, only one being older. Lady Gilcrest shared her daughter's mouse brown hair, though hers had a lot more silver in it now, and the same slender, shy, demure features to her face.

  “Why do we not have the solicitor produced that removed the belongings from Rosewater? He could easily say that it was, in fact, Mr. Smith who hired him.”

  “I suspected that would be my first course of business. Mr. Smith did walk through Rosewater with a solicitor before my departure. I would suspect he was the man that removed the belongings. The only problem is that I don’t recall his name.”

  “Well, this is only your first day home, so do not discourage. We will find a way to untangle this mess he made,” Lady Louisa said. “Speaking of a long day of travel, you must be exhausted. Come, I will help you upstairs so that you may refresh yourself before dinner.”

  Isabella followed her friend upstairs to the room that they would share while visiting.

  “Unfortunately, I was not able to bring much with me. I only have the dress I am wearing and a cotton morning dress,” Isabella said a little embarrassed now they were alone in the room.

  “Do not worry. I have more than enough for the both of us. It will be just like when we were young and shared clothes at school,” Lady Louisa added with a smile.

  “You have been very kind to me despite…” Isabella struggled to finish the sentence. She sat down on the soft bed.

  Lady Louisa sat next to her and consoled her friend. Wrapping a warm arm around Isabella, she waited to speak till she got hold of her emotions again.

  “I suppose I don’t need to ask how your heart is faring?” Lady Louisa finally said.

  Before Isabella could answer, there was a soft knock on the door. In came a maid with fresh, hot water for Isabella. Both girls waited till the maid left before continuing their conversation.

  “I had to leave,” Isabella finally said, softly. “And to make things worse, it will never matter if I right my name. The damage is irreversible. I will always be a pariah of society. I could not bring that misfortune on the duke or Lady Abigail.”

  “I suppose it was Mr. Smith’s intention all along,” she continued. “If I would not accept him, he would find a way to make sure that no one would ever consider having me.”

  “I am sure the duke doesn’t care about stains on reputations. Especially when he knows they are ill-founded,” Lady Louisa said as she tucked back a loose dark strand that fell into Isabella’s face.

  “I know he doesn’t care. I know he would keep his word no matter what. I couldn’t let him. I care for him far too much to do such a thing to him.”

  Lady Louisa nodded, understanding Isabella’s reasoning for severing that tie.

  “I shall let you clean up and rest for a while before dinner. I know you must be exhausted. Sometimes all that is needed to find a way to right a wrong is a little sleep.”

  Lady Louisa left the room after expounding her words of wisdom. Isabella did enjoy the moment to refresh herself and remove the dust that seemed to cake to one's skin while traveling.

  Once freshened up, she slipped into the covers. Isabella, at first, did not think that she would sleep at all. The stress of the last few days had kept her so awake that she didn’t know if she would ever truly rest again. Now that she was in the safety of friends once again and refreshed from her travels, though, Isabella slipped quickly off to sleep.

  It seemed like only a few moments had passed when Lady Louisa arrived back in the room. Already, the window was growing dark with dusk.

  “I waited as long as possible, but we really must dress for dinner now. If you would like, I can make excuses for you and have a tray sent up instead,” Lady Louisa said, just above a whisper, as Isabella came to her senses.

  “No, no. I want to come down. I must have been more exhausted than I thought. I am quite refreshed now, though, I can assure you.”

  Isabella got up from the bed and together, with the help of a lady’s maid, both girls got ready for the evening meal. It was funny for Isabella to have someone help her dress and style her hair again. It seemed to her that it took an exorbitant amount of time rather than just dressing on her own.

  She smiled to herself for the first time in three days. It did seem a silly thing that something a person was once so used to as to not live without, now, having lived without, seemed a silly thing to have at all.

  Isabella came down the stairs at her friend's side. She was trying to remember how to fit into the person she had once been. At one time, this had all seemed so normal to her, but now, without a ward to guide, it felt strange to Isabella to join the household for a meal.

  Thoughts of Jackie brought a deep hurt to her heart. Though she couldn’t bear the thought that she was now without the company of all of Wintercrest, little Jackie brought the worst guilt of all.

  A child of only seven, she would not understand even a portion of the complexities that had lead to her departure. Though Isabella had written in the letter that she would always cherish and love Jackie, she couldn’t help feeling that she had abandoned her.

  “Ah, Izzy, how are you, old girl?” Viscount Dunthorpe said as the two ladies entered the drawing room.

  “If I am an old girl, Lord Colton, then what, pray, does that make someone three years my senior?” Isabella responded with a remembered banter.

  “Dashingly handsome, I would expect,” he responded, raising a dirty blonde brow.

  Unlike his mother and sister, Viscount Dunthorpe Colton Frasier took his father’s stronger square features and playful personality.

  “Give the poor girl a chance to settle in before you go on harassing her,” the Earl of Gilcrest called from his corner of the drawing room with a wink at Isabella.

  He was standing deep in conversation with a gentleman that Isabella didn’t know. He was introduced to her as Colonel MacIntyre. He was a portly fellow with a very distinguished mustache that seemed to mesmerize as he spoke.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” Lord Dunthorpe said after Isabella was seated, “I have invited your friend, Mr. Jenkins, and his wife to join our small party this night.”

  “Oh, that is actually perfect,” Isabella said excitedly.

  She had planned to send a note to Mr. Jenkins and call on him tomorrow. She knew if anyone could help her out of this situation, it would be her late father’s lawyer.

  “I thought you might want to speak to him right away,” Lord Dunthorpe said with a wink. “As soon as I heard of your arrival, I sent him an invitation.”

  “I appreciate it so much. Thank you,” Isabella said sincerely.

  She had to keep her emotions in check yet again. She had never been one for crying much, but over the last few days it had been a common occurrence. And this time, Isabella was happy to say that it was tears of gratitude for the kindness of the whole of the Frasier family.

  Chapter 37

  The Duke of Wintercrest paced continually in his office. He had become more and more irritable of late, and the hustle around the house this morning only seemed to sour his mood further. He was the reason for all the excitement in the manor and probably should have been happy for it. However, he was most certainly not.

  It had now been a fortnight since Isabella’s departure and he felt that little had been done in that time.

  One small accomplishment for the duke had been to convince his mother to go to London for the season and host her lavish ball there in the town residence. She had resisted, at first, knowing full well that his reasoning was Isabella.

  With a change of ve
nue, the whole event would need to be pushed back from its pre-season timetable. It would give the duke more time, and the vicinity, to regain acquaintance with Isabella and clear her name.

  Now, the house was abuzz with preparations for their departure that morning. The duke, however, refused to leave without seeing the morning post. He was expecting a significant letter that he hoped would turn everything around for him.

  Over the last four weeks, the duke had been sharing correspondence with Mr. Jenkins, unknown to either his family or Isabella.

  Mr. Jenkins had first hoped to produce a solicitor that had worked for Mr. Smith to destroy his allegation. Such man was nowhere to be found. Though his sudden disappearance was questionable it wasn’t enough to prove foul play.

  A few days after Isabella fled, Mrs. Peterson handed the duke a letter addressed to her. He was appalled at the words written therein and couldn’t believe that, for the past months, Isabella had been subjected to such vile writings.

  He had immediately sent the letter on to Mr. Jenkins. It clearly proved the scoundrel harbored ill intent toward Isabella. The duke was concerned because the letter was not signed, but hoped that at least through some sort of writing comparison, Mr. Jenkins could prove the ill character of the man and his clear intent to harm Isabella.

  “Your Grace, a letter has just arrived, as you hoped,” Mr. Larson said, holding a parchment on a silver tray.

  "Thank you,” he said as he took the letter greedily.

  To the Duke of Wintercrest

  Your Grace,

  * * *

  I hope this letter finds you in good health. Am I to understand that you will shortly be joining the ranks of this most humble servant here in London?

  I will be most glad for the much shorter distance our correspondence will have to travel. I can honestly say that your contributions in this delicate endeavor have made a significant difference.

  I am happy to inform you that I have compared the letter that was addressed to Miss Watts to writing I already had on hand from the offending gentlemen. I, myself, see it as a clear match.

  To solidify this case, I have gotten the written word of three others to confirm that the handwritings do match. Without a name at the bottom, though, we cannot but hope that this will prove our case.

  I am also glad to inform you that we have also found a second fault to Mr. Smith’s claims. It has come to my attention that, just after acquiring full ownership of Baron Leinister’s shipment company and all his estate with it, Mr. Smith made a large investment.

  He made this investment through the mercantile company for the shipment of goods back from the recently lost colonies. He foolishly thought that he could invest in a large shipment of textiles from the country and make a market on it whilst others were still unwilling do so in the still unfriendly political atmosphere.

  In the end, the ships he sent never returned, no doubt now living their lives out in the Virginias. He lost a great deal of money, not only what he invested in the venture but also what he had expected to gain out of it.

  According to my sources, Mr. Smith had no means, within the company, to fund such an ill-planned venture. It is my calculation that he used the selling of the late Baron’s goods and home to fund his expedition.

  He, no doubt, thought that he would see a return in his investment before needing to use the money for its actual purpose.

  With no way to pay back the debtors now calling on him, Mr. Smith turned to the claim that Miss Watts had stolen from him, rendering him unable to pay any debts.

  Though he does have to prove that Miss Watts took the locket after strict instructions not to do so, I am confident that it will not be enough to prove her guilt, as Mr. Smith hopes.

  I am hopeful, as I take our case before a court later this week, that in due time, justice will be served. I have little doubt that Miss Watts will be cleared of all charges in no more than a year’s time.

  Your Humble Servant,

  Mr. Abram Jenkins

  The duke sat down in his chair as he read over the letter a second time.

  “A year,” he breathed out loud, setting the letter on the desk.

  Most certainly, the duke could wait as much time as was needed before he again engaged Isabella, but he couldn’t imagine her suffering a whole year, living as she now did.

  Though the duke was reassured that the Earl and Lady Gilcrest were taking good care of her, she was most certainly bound to the four walls of their house. There would be no party, no gathering that she would be accepted to. The longer this vile Mr. Smith kept his accusations up, the more irreversible the situation would become for her.

  The Duke of Wintercrest would not stand by a whole year while Isabella waited in house arrest for her name to be cleared. He wasn’t sure how he would do it, but he would find a way to rectify the situation while in London himself.

  He was also determined to do it before his mother’s grand event, so that Isabella would be there by his side when the time finally came.

  The trip to London was long and laborious for the duke, who could not seem to find any more patience for the whole situation. He sat next to his mother who was deeply enthralled in her embroidery, while his sister and niece sat across from him biding their time with books and card games.

  Lady Abigail had taken on much of Jaqueline’s education in the absence of her governess. Though she was not very well trained in the art of teaching, she happily spent most of her mornings and afternoons in the schoolroom with Jackie, doing her best to pick up where Isabella had left off.

  “Will I get to see Miss Watts?” Jaqueline asked, the afternoon they came into the city. “She said in her letter that she loved me dearly. Doesn’t that mean she will want to see me while I am here?”

  Lady Abigail looked to her mother and brother across the carriage. Though the whole of the party was aware of Miss Isabella Watts’ presence in London, it was also an unspoken fact that they wouldn’t be able to see her.

  “I am sure that Miss Watts would want to see you. I am afraid, however, that it just might not be possible,” Lady Abigail said, as delicately as possible.

  She looked back to her brother who was now sternly staring out the carriage window. She watched the muscles in his jaw as he tightened them.

  “Why ever not?” Jaqueline asked.

  “Because,” Lady Abagail said, turning back to the child, “you will be so busy with all the wonderful things to see and pretty frocks to buy, I don’t know that you will have a moment to spare.”

  “I would always find a moment for Miss Watts,” Jaqueline said. She knew the answer to her question wouldn’t change no matter what she said. She leaned her golden head on her aunt’s shoulder, “I miss her so much. It’s as if I left mother all over again.”

  Lady Abigail placed her arm around the child and did her best to comfort her. The silence in the carriage from that moment on was deafening.

  As soon as the carriage came to the townhouse, the duke went straight to his office to pen a letter. He wanted to inform Mr. Jenkins that he had arrived in London and that Mr. Jenkins should expect a call from him in the morning.

  The duke stayed in his office for the remainder of the night, not even joining the family for an evening meal. He could sense Isabella’s closeness and his hands turned to brush her cheek again.

  He locked himself in the office for fear that if he walked out he would continue to do so till he found himself before the residence of the Earl of Gilcrest. He knew he must wait and pace himself.

  First, he would meet with Mr. Jenkins, then he would put into practice the plan he had developed on the long ride over.

  It wasn’t a plan to see Mr. Smith behind bars, something he would most like to do, but it was a way to end it all and again have Isabella as his future bride.

  Chapter 38

  Isabella was beginning to feel her mind slipping as she turned the small garden in the back of the house for what had to be the hundredth time.

  Wi
th the season starting in earnest now, Lady Gilcrest and Lady Louisa were engaged most afternoons and evenings. Though both ladies had insisted Isabella come along with them, she had firmly refused.

  They were kind enough to shelter her over the past month. They didn’t need the added burden on their reputation to be seen with her in front of the town.

  Instead, Isabella was left at the house alone most days. She tried to stay put in the small drawing room and embroider or read but with the glorious sun shining down almost every day, she couldn’t help but want to be outside in its warmth.

  She thought for a moment of when she and the duke had sat on a cold stone bench in the dark. Isabella had confessed that she could never get used to the cold weather so far up north.

  When the prospect of their unity was so close, Isabella had not once considered living her whole life up at Wintercrest Manor. Now that she was returned to London, she still missed Wintercrest and its inhabitants, but she could not help but enjoy the sun.

  “You wicked minx,” a voice called into the garden, “out here taking turns with your bonnet in your hand.” Viscount Dunthorpe tisked Isabella as he made his way to her in a teasing manner. “What will the other ladies say?”

  “They will not say a word of it,” Isabella said, placing the confounded conformity back on her head before taking the Viscount's arm. “I am not acceptable to be in proper society. I might as well look the part.”

  In all honesty, Isabella had learned to despise her large brimmed bonnets, as Lady Abigail had done. But she reminded herself that London was different and the sun could be harsher.

  “Don’t be so down, Izzy,” he said affectionately, as he took her for yet another turn. “It is right awful outside these walls. I fear the town has gotten even more gossipy since you left. It would not suit your often-loose tongue at all.”

  Isabella pinched his elbow in a sibling gesture. Colton had always included Isabella in his big brotherly duties.

  “I have actually learned very well how to control my tongue,” Isabella said, sticking her sun-warmed chin in the air.